


Concordia

by airam06



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, No underage, Pining, Rating likely to change later on, mute!Dean, orphan!Destiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2015-02-03
Packaged: 2018-03-10 07:24:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3281912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airam06/pseuds/airam06
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After tragedy leaves Dean in an orphanage, he loses the will to speak. He spends his time absorbed in books in his room, until his new roommate is assigned, another child with an equally broken soul, abandoned by his family. An unlikely friendship begins between the boy who refuses to speak, and the boy who only wanted to be heard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Concordia

Dean was about to age out of the system, and it scared the shit out of him. A few more months, and he'd get his bag, a pat on the back, and a miserable goodbye party, where people would smile falsely at him and whisper to each other behind his back, "if only he had been adopted."

He didn't have anyone left. His entire family had been killed in a car accident when he was only nine, caused by John drinking too much and swerving to avoid the hole in the center of the road that was never really there. Dad died on impact, Mary not long after, and Sam...sweet Sam with the goofy laugh and big brown eyes...he had died at the hospital.

And just like that, Dean stopped talking.

When he first came to Henderson's Home for Boys, he ignored everyone. He never spoke, and the kind yet brash woman who ran the place only learned his name when he wrote it. Dean lashed out angrily at any person who dared tease his silence, who pressed for him to speak. He scoffed at the idea of being adopted. Who would want a broken boy? And why would he want a family? He had one, six feet under and miles away.

In desperation, Ellen allowed Dean to have his own room, and he enjoyed the privacy. He spent days at school and evenings in seclusion, eyes glued to Shel Silverstein books. But times were hard for everyone, and one afternoon, Dean found Ellen standing in his doorway, her hand on the shoulder of a boy whose shoulders slumped with the weight of the world.

"Dean," Ellen said. "You have a roommate."

Dean viciously shook his head side to side, but Ellen leveled him with a glare.

"I've got no other room to put him in, and you'll deal with it," she said, and she squeezed the boy closer to her before letting go. "Besides, he's been through enough."

Ellen left them alone, and Dean narrowed his gaze before returning to his reading.

The thin child slung a dirty bag onto the empty bed in the small bedroom. He sat down beside it, his actions so light and purposeful he hardly seemed human. He simply sat and stared into thin air, and Dean found he stared at him while he did so. The other boy realized this, and Dean hastily turned his eyes away.

"Hello, Dean," the boy said in a stiff manner, his voice high and peculiar for his age, which Dean assumed to be around the same as his own. "My name is Castiel. Mrs. Harvelle says you don't talk."

Dean spared him a quick glance as though judging whether he was going to be teased.

"I like quiet," Cas said in a soft tone. "So please don't feel like you have to talk just because I'm here. Though I would always be willing to listen if you wanted me to."

Cas continued to stare around the room, until his eyes landed on the speakers causing music to quietly waft through the small space.

"My sister plays- played -her music too loudly. I would rather read."

Dean threw Castiel a curious look, and Castiel shook his head.

"They left me here. My mother and father were never good parents, but when Anna died...well, I think any parental instinct did too."

Dean recognized that tone of voice. He knew it all too well. Silently, he sat up, the bed creaking under him, and scooped up a tattered book of poetry from his nightstand. He crossed the room and plunked it down roughly on Castiel's bed before returning to his own.

Castiel stared at it before picking it up as though it were a priceless heirloom. He stared at Dean, large blue eyes wide with wonder at such a simple act of kindness. It broke Dean's heart.

"Thank you, Dean," Castiel said, and he gingerly opened the book and began to read the words, a smile forming on his lips.

Dean cleared his throat.

"You're welcome, Cas."


End file.
